


license to kill.

by nihilisten



Category: IRIS (TV)
Genre: Action, Drabble Collection, Gen, Psychological Thriller, Serial Killers, Slow To Update, but I'm detetmined to finish this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-12 19:25:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 77
Words: 7,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11168496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nihilisten/pseuds/nihilisten
Summary: Assassins don't have feelings. The best assassins do.[120 drabble challenge]





	1. dangerous games

He walked the thin line like a cliff.

Everything he did was a game in which life was the stake. Others’ life, but also his own. The winner lives. The loser dies. He always won. Mistakes were equal to death, so he didn’t make mistakes.

Everything he did wasn’t for real. Like theatre, everyone played their part and he prepared the scene for main actors. Cleaned for them and after them. They played. But that were mere parts.

He could lose everything or gain lots. He didn’t wonder if the effect was worth it.

After all, it’s just a game.


	2. mission

Current mission: extracting information from the target and eliminating him.

The usual.

Reaching for a gun, he looked outside the window. It wasn’t his habit, he did it unconsciously. Black sky was overcast, he couldn’t see neither moon nor the stars.

Today’s mission is quick. In the dead of night he’d sneak into target’s headquarters, steal information, eliminate bystanders. Like yesterday and before. Like everyday.

If he’s lucky, clouds won’t vanish until he finishes. Nobody will witness his actions or look him in the eye. It’s between him and the target.

He took the gun and went on a mission.


	3. midnight whispers

He was awake at night yet again. Not because he couldn’t sleep, but because that was easier.

While dreaming, he could’ve seen faces of those he killed, their ghosts haunting him until he went crazy. He could’ve seen Mr. Black’s face that he’d met in reality only once, mocking him. He could have seen many spectres of the past…

He hadn’t had dreams for many years.

He had spent dreamless and sleepless nights for so many years he forgot how it’s like to dream about someone’s face. Friendly or hostile, whatever. His nights were always empty.

He’d rather have nightmares.


	4. invitation from hell

“Death or cooperation, choose now.”

Man draws a gun, face stern. Hasn’t pointed at ‘him’ yet, but ‘he’ suspects it won’t be long. Saying nothing, ‘he’ looks blankly at the man.

“Choose now!”

Shouts man, directing gun at ‘him’. ‘He’ doesn’t move. Isn’t afraid, or so ‘he’ thinks.

Has to choose because happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Doesn’t want to die because of such a stupid reason.

“Cooperation with whom?”

Man grins disgustingly.

“IRIS.”

The name’s unknown to ‘him’, but it’s a question of time. ‘He’ has nothing to lose.

So ‘he’ chooses life.


	5. attack

He didn’t have to use extraordinary measures to achieve his goal. He didn’t even have to use much force, his job was giving impact on the human psyche. Killing was only the culmination.

Like a snake, he’d creep up to an unaware victim, whisper endearments, tempt, then jump and strangle it. Then the tiger’d came to tear it, and he’d observe from distance.

He was content with that. Maybe didn’t get the best morsels, but also didn’t risk too much. All attacks were planned beforehand, everyone had their task.

Without him the tiger wouldn’t be able to step in anyways.


	6. raising hell

“I’m disappointed. You’ve failed.”

Unpleasant words in the headset don’t impress him, but he listens to them humbly.

Mr. Black doesn’t shout, there’s no anger or reproach in his voice. His words don’t hurt, they are only a warning. He doesn’t need to raise his voice to be obeyed. He doesn’t lead IRIS for nothing.

“If you’d waited, you’d have learned where his people went. You killed him too early.”

They both know it couldn’t have been done later, but that’s unimportant. What matters is their conversation nobody else will hear.

Vick hangs up. He must work harder next time.


	7. beauty

Ideal proportions, smooth skin, slender limbs. Squinted eyes, slightly parted lips. Face frozen in blissful ignorance.

She was perfect. She was beautiful. Her dead body near the door seemed like the most wonderful phenomenon to him. Like death itself, personified and maintained, and he experienced it all the time.

Death was a fascinating occurrence he could never understand. But he tried, that’s why he did what he did.

For a moment he wondered why she ended in this world. He discarded those thoughts shortly. Elderly man’s corpse entwined with hers was also beautiful somehow. And beauty, like everything, is transitory.


	8. stargazing

He liked the vast view from skyscrapers’ roofs. No matter where mission was assigned, he felt sentiment for it.

Sky was same everywhere. Buildings were same. Sun, moon, stars, everything always same.

He liked it.

Whenever he felt insecure, he climbed the highest building and watched stars. Their faint light was somehow soothing. He saw different sky parts in different corners of the world, but all them were elements of a single, unchanging whole. One sky under which people lived and died.

He knew no matter how big chaos appeared, stars would remain the only constant thing in the universe.


	9. soft hair

Her hair, scattered on the pillow like a cascade of golden reflections, spread pleasant fruity fragrance that intoxicated him. Slowly emerged from darkness, reflecting the rising sun, and tickled his neck.

She slept peacefully, cuddled up to his chest with a naïve smile. Her small body bulged under sheets, even breath brushing against his skin.

Inhaling her shampoo’s scent, he looked up at the ceiling of her room with which he should’ve never had anything to do. In which he should’ve never appeared.

Maybe in another life he could’ve given her a smile or a kiss instead of killing her.


	10. sacrifice

He once asked what’s the purpose of lives he takes.

Mr. Black remained quiet for awhile and the headset filled with silence. Vick thought they got disconnected, but after seconds he heard the voice again.

“You shouldn’t ask that.”

He was told that inconvenient questions may cost dearly, but couldn’t restrain curiosity.

“Please tell me.”

There was a laughter. He said nothing strange, so didn’t understand why he got laughed at.

“To gain something, you must pay the price. That’s the rule. They are all just a small sacrifice for the great cause.”

He didn’t ask what the cause was.


	11. it's just love, right?

She was looking at him for awhile now. He affected her even by such simple activities like making coffee.

She smiled to herself.

“Darling…”

The word escaped her mouth before she could stop it. He lifted his eyes and when his gaze pierced her, she shivered pleasantly.

“Yes?”

She abashed for a second. He was always calm and composed unlike her, who acted like some enamoured teenage girl. But he waited for her response, she couldn’t ignore him, so she walked over and hugged him.

“I love you.”

Then she felt his hand stroking her hair.

“I love you too.”


	12. shooting star

“You really want that?”

He didn’t understand.

Want, wish – these words were foreign to him. He just stood there and stared into space with uncomprehending eyes, trying to figure out what was behind that question.

“Want…”

He repeated unconsciously like it was a foreign language. His interlocutor, an informant from IRIS, frowned at that strange reaction and flinched impatiently.

“Mr. Black’s gonna scold us unless you decide. Hurry.”

Vick often made quick decisions, but never relied them upon whether he wanted something. This feeling was alien to him.

To wish, huh?

As if anyone cared whether he wished for something…


	13. making history

What really was behind his actions? He didn’t know. He just did what ordered.

He wasn’t interested in what Mr. Black, Baek San or other bigwigs from IRIS wanted anyways. As long as he had his profits, he didn’t care. And it was probably the same for everyone.

There really was no need to worry.

He thought it was him who organization owed the success to and smiled to himself. It was unusual to him, but when it struck him that everything was thanks to him, he felt strange satisfaction.

You all are nothing.

It’s me who makes your history.


	14. rhythm

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Gunshots echoed in a small room. In perfectly equal, uniform spacing. They always reached the target.

Throb. Throb. Throb.

His heart seemed to sound equally loudly.

He didn’t hear or see anything. Neither blood nor bodies, nor screams of those he killed. Nothing but his raging, deafening heartbeat.

He didn’t know anymore if pulling the trigger is dependent on his finger, or maybe on that unbearable tightness in his chest. He couldn’t tell them apart anymore. He guessed that was the final moment.

In his ears he could only hear gunshots and his heartbeat merging into one.


	15. the scent of blood

‘You are like air to me!’

He once heard woman saying this to his target. Accidentally, it’s just the door was half opened.

That time he didn’t think about what it had meant, but after completing the mission curiosity approached him.

Air. Oxygen. Something we breathe. Necessary to life. Numerous associations appeared in his mind. He concluded the last one was most accurate.

Yes, she certainly meant she couldn’t live without him.

“Heh…”

He smiled to himself.

To him, air was the scent of blood which rose after killing the target and the woman. He probably couldn’t live without it.


	16. dreaming

He woke up, feeling like he had forgotten something.

It confused him deeply. He never had dreams, or at least that’s what he thought. He couldn’t possibly have them without knowing they’re dreams, could he?

It was dark outside. Shining through the window, the moon illuminated his gun that was laying on the table.

He looked at the clock and then realised it was useless. It’s not like he remembered what time he fell asleep. And he didn’t need to know.

Everything he did was like walking through a dream. None of it was real, so why care about time.


	17. dawn

The sky was gray, still getting brighter, but he was already up for many hours. This mission required much patience and, unfortunately, an early wake-up.

While walking the street, he squeezed the gun under his lapel. Don’t let me down, baby, he thought and smiled to himself. His baby never let him down, yet he kept telling it to himself every dawn.

New day was a new mission and new circumstances; nothing remained the same in his chaotic life. There was only one thing he knew when the sun went up: someone isn’t going to see a new dawn anymore.


	18. proof of existence

“The fuck’re you doing? Didn’t you understand the order?!”

“S-sorry, sir…”

“To hell with your sorry! Don’t you see I could crush you within a second? And nothing, absolutely nothing would remain. You are nothing, so get the goddamn job done correctly!”

“Y-yes sir…”

“Fuck off.”

The agent rushed out of the room, downcast and scared. Vick indifferently escorted him with his gaze and looked at the superior.

“See? That’s how things are here.”

Oh yes, he knew that very well. If he ever was to disappear, the orders he had obeyed would be the only proof of his existence.


	19. interlude

He drove the car in the middle of night, getting back from a mission. The road was so silent and dark that he couldn’t see the bridge of his own nose.

Mr. Black seemed content today. Everything went as planned and they got their hands on that USB everyone went mad about. Vick was given a one day free, so he could return to his mansion and do nothing.

Easier said than done, but he decided to give it a try. However, he still wondered how exactly doing nothing looks like.

First, he left his spare gun under the seat.


	20. first impressions

“Okay, so this is your job. Any questions?”

He shook his head. The man explained everything more than sufficiently.

“Good. You start from tomorrow, now take a look around. I hope for a successful cooperation… Oh right, you need a codename. Got anything in mind?”

“No, sir,” he answered shortly.

“Fine then, let’s pick something short. From now, you’re Vick. You can leave.”

The fresh recruit bowed his head and headed for the door.

That was the first and only time when he saw Mr. Black, the man who gave him a new life and a name, face to face.


	21. consciousness

The man groaned and limply fell on the floor. He was the last, nobody else remained in the building. Vick lowered his gun and glanced around.

And then it hit him: he didn’t actually register the act of pulling the trigger.

He stood there for a while, dumbstruck, trying to remember what he was doing a few seconds ago, but was unable to do so. The sound of his phone ringing snatched him back to the reality.

“…Yes?”

“Done? Then grab the suitcase and get back immediately.”

“Yessir.”

He hung up and started to run, not registering that fact either.


	22. tactics

He leaned out and listened. The two targets were talking loudly, so every single word was perfectly audible.

He cautiously glanced into the room. It was small and there were many glass items inside, as well as a big chandelier. It seemed the best way to kill them would be to make the chandelier fall on them and then shoot them.

Yeah, that looked like a good plan.

He held his breath for a while before he stepped into the room and completed his task. It’s not like he needed a tactics every time, but somehow, it made him calm.


	23. sympathy

“You’re gonna regret this. Boss will kill you all, you fucking bastards.”

They always say that in front of the barrel. Vick looked at the man with bored eyes.

“I don’t think so,” he pulled the hammer back, making the man flinch.

“D-don’t do this. You’ll get yourself killed. We can come to terms, but first put down that thing.”

Vick smiled. That was a pity the man didn’t even know how funny he was.

“Don’t! Please! Don’t!”

So pathetic, he thought and pulled the trigger. You pitiful little thing, let me shove those disgusting pleas down your loathsome throat.


	24. inside your heart

Unnecessary thoughts weren’t welcome in his job, but sometimes he just couldn’t help them.

“Mission accomplished, sir.”

“Very well. I didn’t expect anything else.”

Didn’t you really? Did you really trust me that much? No way. It seemed so naïve and stupid that Vick let out a short laugh.

“What’s the matter, Vick?”

“Nothing, sir.”

Mr. Black remained silent for a while, apparently taken aback by his response.

“Damn, I sometimes wonder what you’re thinking.”

Again, there was a laugh.

“Worry not, sir. It’s nothing.”

Mr. Black’s words were satisfying, but he certainly knew Vick wondered so about him too.


	25. christmas eve

He rushed out of the conference room and headed for the exit. There was soft music audible outside. Ignoring laughing people around, he started walking down the snowy road.

It was 24th of December.

Mr. Black seemed to be in a good mood today. Not because of the day, obviously, but because of something only he knew. As far as Vick cared, it concerned the newest mission and the guy named Baek San.

“Merry Christmas!” shouted someone from the side.

Tomorrow is an important day, that big fish is going to be freed, so he’d better prepare for the mission.


	26. legends

“Do you know that guy? You’re in another department, so you might not.”

“Well yeah, I don’t. Should I?”

“Definitely. He’s Mr. Black’s favourite.”

“What? Who is he?”

“They say he can kill anyone, at any time and never hesitates. He’s like a robot. Excluding the boss, everyone fears him.“

“Sounds pretty stupid. We aren’t kids to be afraid of some cocky bastard.”

“You have a point, but that’s just my little advice to you. Never cross paths with him and keep away whenever you hear the name Vick.”

“Is he really that good?”

“Pray that you never ascertain it…”


	27. ties

As for himself, he didn’t mind cooperating with others. Not that he was fond of it, either. He just did it if it was necessary, but luckily, that didn’t happen often.

He knew he couldn’t survive alone. IRIS was huge; there was no way you could simply go away without communicating with fellow members. And, obviously, with Mr. Black.

However, you also couldn’t trust anyone.

Whether he was on a mission or dealing with some kind of crisis, he knew nobody would help him out. In IRIS, you just couldn’t forget the one simple rule: everyone cares only about themselves.


	28. communication breakdown

“Don’t let them! Just go and—“

“Mr. Black? Mr. Black?”

The phone went silent. He shook it in anger, but to no avail.

“Goddammit.”

There was no time to waste; the enemies had already surrounded the building. However, he could still escape without completing his mission.

This was one of the rare moments when he had to make decision on his own.

Take the risk or not?

Gunshots echoed in the empty corridor, so he flinched and started to run. His superior’s face showed up in his mind, but he ignored it.

It was going to be his own decision.


	29. birthday

Amongst awfully rich, important people who only loved themselves, there were many who were also incredibly careless.

Sounds of loud voices, cheering and glasses jingling echoed in the room. He could tell every single person was drunk like a sailor. In the middle of celebrating, they apparently forgot what they did on a daily basis, but it felt like a proper thing to do.

He threw a grenade and the voices drowned in the explosion.

Before moving on, he stopped to glance into the room.

Scattered bodies were covered with blood, glass and icing form the birthday cake. So sweet.


	30. children laughing

At times he took hostages, but that wasn’t a frequent thing. He wasn’t a fan unless it was absolutely necessary. And if he did, he avoided kidnapping children as much as he could.

Some might say there aren’t better hostages than children. They’re weak, naïve, easily scared. Well, true, but to him, they were monsters.

He was sure their innocent eyes hid something inhuman, something he couldn’t even imagine. They were demons disguised as humans, seeking their prey and cursing it with their deadly laughter.

Of course he didn’t fear them. He loved children. Especially with their brains on walls.


	31. with only my words

“H-hey, wait a sec. Just let me… let me make a call.”

“No joke,” snorted Vick, not moving a gun even an inch from the man’s head.

“P-please. I won’t do anything funny. I just wanna tell my kids to be happy. Do… do you have kids?”

“No.”

“It’s the best, believe me. They are my only sunshine in this rotten world. Just let me say goodbye… Please.”

Vick pulled the trigger and dropped the dead man to the floor. Blood stained his hand. He wiped it into the curtains.

He liked it when they died with only his words.


	32. cry out

It was so loud.

Even though there were many of them, he kept calm, believing cold blood could help him out of the worst pinch. A clash between their rage and his composure; yet there was only one possible outcome.

Yells pierced his ears, but he seemed not to hear them. He kept aiming and shooting with deadly precision and soon, all his enemies lay on the floor, dead and gone.

Perfect self-control.

Gunshots and voices were deafening, still he seemed to hear nothing, like silence in itself. Before and after. Always. Nobody could hear his internal cries after all.


	33. new hope

As cliché as it sounds, nothing ever changed.

The organisation remained the same since God knows when, following the same rules, pursuing the same goals. Even its members were just too similar: hard to tell apart and thinking alike. Vick might have had more than them, but he probably wasn’t that different.

Mr. Black, being talkative, fit that pattern, too.

“I hope it will be that way forever. Me, you, the whole IRIS.”

Vick remained silent, clutching the phone. So Mr Black, unlike him, had his hopes.

“And? What do you think?”

“Yes,” he replied. “That would be quite pleasant.”


	34. stardust

The moment he stepped into the building, it struck him. Something was wrong. However, he couldn’t quite say what that was. Raising his gun, he slowly proceeded to the door.

But before he could grab the doorknob, he felt intoxicating sensation in his throat. The gun fell to the ground. He choked and clutched his throat, his vision blurry.

A second later it stopped.

He froze, utterly bewildered, only kneeling to pick up his gun. And then… he smiled.

Nothing was wrong with the place. It all happened inside his mind.

Like stardust, death floated in the air, suffocating him.


	35. pressure

He tripped down the stairs, but adrenaline in his veins made him forget about fatigue. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t let enemies get to the control room first.

It was the critical point.

He stumbled to the door and fired his gun at the man who appeared at the end of the corridor. Forcing the door open, he rushed inside and locked it. Thugs were still there, so he quickly grabbed the USB and jumped out of the window.

When he ran down the street, his phone rang.

“Mr. Black…”

He expected yells, but his superior sounded relieved.

“Good job, Vick.”


	36. doll eyes

The informant waited inside the abandoned doll shop. It was getting late; he hoped it wouldn’t be long before that guy comes.

He sat in the corner, slowly drifting off to sleep, when he heard footsteps.

It was him. The assassin. He stopped before the shop and carefully looked inside.

At first the informant shivered, thinking Vick was looking at him. But no. It was the big porcelain doll by the shop window.

Why was he staring at her…?

It’s not like he could be moved by her beauty. No way. His squinted eyes were as empty as the doll’s.


	37. we're ok

“Listen to me. You can’t fail. If you do, it’s over. You get it?”

Mr. Black sounded nervous, but Vick just checked the time indifferently. He knew exactly what he had to do.

“Of course I get it. Please don’t worry. It’s already done.”

“Whaddya mean, it’s done? Did you…”

“We’re OK, Mr. Black. The enemies are eliminated.”

It was great insubordination to act on his own, but he didn’t really care as long as the organisation was safe. And it was now, thanks to him. His boss couldn’t possibly punish him for saving everyone’s asses.

It felt damn satisfying.


	38. hourglass

Most people fear time. It never waits, flowing faster than a heartbeat.

Everyone’s got their own amount of sand in their hourglass… You could spend your whole life doing nothing and never notice how it slipped through your fingers.

He knew that, but didn’t have time to think about time. It was something he didn’t need and didn’t want to understand. Time was equal to living. Yes, he did often look at clocks and rush to meetings, but that wasn’t time.

It was vegetation.

Yet he didn’t really mind. It meant it wouldn’t be as hard when his sand ends.


	39. soldier

IRIS was huge. It had numerous departments, each one containing of hundreds of workers. The hierarchy was flawless. Everyone knew their place.

There were no individualities. They all were a part of a big, single organism. All indispensable, like blood cells that transport oxygen.

Mr. Black was the brain, giving orders and making crucial decisions. Vick was his right hand; always ready to use, never asking questions. However, there was no heart.

An ideal, mindless marionette – that was the characteristic of a useful worker. And Vick mastered it perfectly.

Like an army of angels of death, they obeyed their master.


	40. smoke

First you fire a gun, then you admire the sight.

The body fell limp to the floor, but he didn’t really look at that. Something engulfed his vision, mesmerizing him. He slowly straightened up, the look of astonishment on his face.

Smoke that arose from the barrel was everywhere. It surrounded him like a second skin, filled his lungs and dimed his mind.

He felt like he was in a dream. A dream inside a dream.

It was… pleasant.

“Vick? Are you there?”

Mr. Black’s sudden voice snapped him into reality, but it was before long he’d feel it again.


	41. good luck, goodbye

“No matter how strong you are now, God will punish you in the afterlife. He won’t have mercy for you.”

Vick sighed. The underworld concealed the weirdest of people, but that was quite a paradox to have a religious maniac in it.

“I thought your god was said to be merciful,” he said indifferently while raising the gun. “Whatever. I’m not.”

The man shrieked and held the Bible in front of himself like a shield.

“God will save me!”

“Yeah, sure. Say hello to angels.”

Before pulling the trigger, Vick threw a short glance at the book.

“Good luck. Goodbye.”


	42. pain

Feeling pain was something he couldn’t quite grasp. Of course, it hurt him when he was shot, but calling it pain seemed like some unfunny joke.

It’s not like he was completely away from pain, though.

Most of his victims had it in their eyes, especially when being pointed his gun at. They were terrified, yet the pain resembled a shield they weren’t aware of.

He could see it, could almost touch it. Still he tried to be as quick as possible… not to cause more pain.

Because sometimes he wondered if that shield would block his bullet one day.


	43. suicide

Thoughts about ending his own life weren’t foreign to him.

Dying – in his profession it was as easy as taking candy from a child; if you weren’t careful, you could be finished before you even noticed. He didn’t like the idea of being killed, so he was careful.

But taking his own life didn’t seem as bad.

He knew he’d cross the line one day. It would be the moment he’d have no choice, no future anymore. With nowhere to run, he’d accept his fate.

Then he would look at his gun again… but this time, from the other side.


	44. distant past

Near a house by the lake there’s a cross hovering over the village. Both the village and the house are full of people, cheerful voices surrounding the valley.

The villagers are kind and hearty, treating each other like a family. Nobody ever feels lonely nor hopeless. The harvest is sufficient for everyone to satisfy their hunger, and though they have their worries, they’re happy.

The kids play with handmade toys. One of the boys stands on the side, watching them with a small smile.

The boy loves his family and his village. He’s sure those happy times will last forever.


	45. duel

“So you’re Vick… IRIS’ ace.”

He narrowed his eyes at the voice, but saw nobody. Slowly raised his gun as a precaution.

The man who appeared at the door looked at least smug. He wasn’t fat and suited like those disgusting CEOs. Even the way he held his gun made him look like a skilled assassin.

Finally, thought Vick and smiled.

“Is something funny? Why don’t you tell me?”

“Sure, why not,” he replied and fired five shots. The opponent swiftly dodged the bullets and flashed a smile as well.

“Looks like we’re gonna have fun here.”

Vick smirked.

“Indeed.”


	46. secret ambitions

“You know, Vick... One day you could take my place.”

Vick remained silent, unsure what to make of Mr. Black’s words. He never really thought about it. Leading IRIS? It felt as abstract as some sick drug vision.

“But this isn’t gonna be anytime soon, mind you.”

“No, sir.”

Mr. Black let out a short laugh. There was zero trust in their conversations, but somehow they still were able to contemplate unusual topics and it didn’t feel forced at all.

“Of course not. Remember that. The day you want to take my place is the day one of us dies.”


	47. memorial

He didn’t keep his victims in mind. There was no need to. They were simple targets with no connection to his life; they only dragged him further into hell like faceless spectres.

He wondered if he was like that to IRIS.

Obviously, the organisation had plenty of assassins and tons of candidates, yet he was easily called one of their best. But for how long? Could he not be replaced? Would he be remembered years after?

Probably not. He knew very well that Mr. Black would shoot him without even blinking if he became a threat.

Unless he was faster.


	48. flying

He crept up to the door, trying to eavesdrop the conversation from inside.

“If you don’t spill the beans now, you’re gonna face that devil from IRIS. And he won’t fuck with you.”

“Really?” the other voice snorted. “I got some useful information here. I don’t think he’d let that slip away.”

“You’re so wrong,” interrupted Vick, stepping into the room out of the blue.

“Shit!”

The kidnapper shrieked, firing his gun right into the captive’s head. Vick leaped to the side and fired as well.

He was sent flying, looking somewhat graceful for the first and the last time.


	49. with only that, i'm happy

The underworld robbed people of everything. Scruples, safety, feelings even. Though some said they were satisfied with their work, Vick didn’t believe them.

He wasn’t.

If firing bullets that splash the victims’ brain on the wall could soothe his soul, he’d always aim for heads. If stabbing someone from behind made him feel the tiniest bit of joy, he’d stop using guns.

It was neither, so he just carried on with his emptiness, but when he sometimes looked outside – to the world of seemingly better people – it was the same.

He started thinking nobody on the Earth was truly happy.


	50. curtain

The room was suspiciously silent. He pulled the pin of his gun and cautiously stepped inside.

It was an old-fashioned, spacious room filled with expensive furniture. One could admire its decorated walls and beautiful wooden cabinets… but there was a tiny detail that could spoil the pleasure.

The traitor was somewhere in it.

Vick eyed the room, looking for possible places to hide, and then it hit him. He held his breath, mad delight in his eyes, and stretched his hand to the window.

Swift shot.

The curtain immediately covered with red. Not even a sound echoed in the room.


	51. melting

“Tch… You got me.”

The man smiled somewhat regretfully, putting the file back on the table. He was no criminal, he just happened to know wrong people and made a wrong decision.

Such a shame.

“I give up,” he raised his hands with the look of resignation on his face. “But before you shoot, can I have a request?”

Vick raised an eyebrow, prompting him to continue.

“Make it quick, please.”

He did. There was a little blood and almost no sound; when the man collapsed, Vick closed his eyes in disbelief.

Fulfilling victims’ requests? Maybe he was growing old.


	52. harmony

His life was perfectly predictable. Every day he followed the same routines, not thinking about changing anything even once.

He got up at regular hours. Hadn’t snoozed a single time.

Contacted Mr. Black using the same headset he got on his first day in IRIS.

Used his favourite gun since he joined, never changed bullets. Never had missed, either.

His targets showed a wide range of reactions, but he eventually memorised them all. It wasn’t often that they surprised him. And when they did, he considered it a big day.

One would be surprised how boring assassin’s life could be.


	53. light and dark

Staggering, the man hurried down the hallway, trying not to look over his shoulder. His lungs burned of exhaustion, taking his breath away, but that… monster, that devil – it didn’t seem to be left behind. Oh no.

It approached.

Suddenly the wall appeared out of nowhere; the man felt bitter tears flowing down his cheeks. So that’s it. He was doomed. Everything’s over.

“I know it won’t help… but it’s nothing personal,” said the voice from behind.

Slowly, he turned around.

The last thing he saw was half of the devil’s soothing smile, the other half lingering evilly in darkness.


	54. light and dark

He got used to bumping into madmen. They amused him with their strange behaviour, but their words sometimes crept him out. A bit.

“Are you lost?”

The person behind looked calm, as if knowing exactly what would happen in the next minute. Thanks to poor light he couldn’t tell whether that was a man or a woman.

“No, but it seems you are,” he replied, clutching his gun. There was no need to kill them, unless they saw something they shouldn’t have.

“Whatever you’re looking for, you won’t find it. Your path is narrow… It leads to nowhere.”

He twitched.


	55. smile

The woman faced the barrel with childish astonishment brightening her face, eyes fixed on the hole. Vick wasn’t sure if it was smile lingering on her lips. It couldn’t be, could it?

Well, given that she held a gun on her own, pointed between his eyes, it probably could.

“We count to three and then shoot, okay?”

“Whatever you want,” he shrugged, unaffected by that honey-laced voice.

Her lips curved upwards.

“Three...”

They looked each other in the eye.

“Two...”

His finger lingered over the trigger.

“One.”

There was only one shot audible.

Falling, the suicidal woman was still smiling.


	56. adolescence

Facing his superior, ‘he’ stands there with unreadable expression, eyes on the ground. He feels nothing. It’s like he’s outside his body, observing the situation from behind; like ‘he’ is someone else, a stranger of no importance whatsoever.

The superior gets up his chair and reaches out. There’s a gun in his hand, but it’s its stock facing ‘him’.

‘He’ glances at it indifferently, knowing once he takes it, there’ll be no coming back. And he does.

‘He’ is now dead to the world.

From now on, there’s Vick – someone completely foreign, and yet someone ‘he’ will learn to accept.


	57. swimming

Unwanted attention is deadly – that was the first rule of the underworld.

Aware of it, he was always careful and precise, trying to make as little fuss as possible. Like a wolf, he tracked down his prey, killed it silently and left without a trace.

However, from time to time something clicked in his mind.

From time to time he felt like swimming in their blood.

These times, he’d fire his gun more than necessary, more than he should’ve. With bullets swirling, the dead body would be hardly recognizable at this point, but he’d keep shooting and shooting and shooting…


	58. irritation

“Tch.”

The bullet fell out of his hand while he was reloading. Hurriedly, he took out another one and made sure it doesn’t drop to the ground again. No time for bumming around, there was a business which needed to be taken care of – namely, a certain deserter who made him really, really mad.

Firmly gripping his gun, he stepped inside the building. It was big, but that posed no problem. He knew exactly where the target could hide, or rather, where they couldn’t.

Lips pressed into a thin line, he continued the chase, determined to get rid of trouble.


	59. messenger

“Mr.  Black.”

There was a slight disruption before he heard his superior’s voice. Probably a matter of distance. One could hardly expect good reception here in the middle of the sea.

“Any news? Where are you now?”

“On board. I’m taking off to find the location you requested.”

Meanwhile, he threw a glance at the horizon. Even through dark sunglasses he could see how clear the sky was, almost merging with the blue waters afar. With no ship in sight, his path was clean. Even the wind smelled somewhat nostalgic.

“…And I don’t foresee any difficulties with that,” he added.


	60. final fight

Constant ticking filled the room, which was none other than IRIS’ archives.

Vick stood beside the safe, clutching pincers like his life depended on it. Because it actually did – the bomb threatened to blow up anything that mattered.

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath, sweeping a bead of sweat from off his forehead. Which wire was that again? The blue one? Or the red one? He forgot.

Screw that, he thought. Even if I fail, Black won’t get me in hell anyway.

Closing his eyes, he cut the black wire.

Ticking stopped. He exhaled heavily and slumped to the ground.


	61. holy night

The night sky glittered with stars and blowing snow, moon hidden somewhere beneath the clouds.

He drove down the street, trying his best to avoid skidding. He hurried as much as possible; the meeting was about to begin and yet he was there, in the middle of the icy road, unable to go faster than 20 mph.

That said, he didn’t quite dislike winter, though it could make things complicated. This winter in particular wasn’t actually bad too. The organisation made many successful deals, the meeting on top of them.

He smirked into nothingness.

They wouldn’t begin until he arrives.


	62. riot

The agents stopped talking the exact moment he entered the room. As they glanced at him with cold mistrust in their eyes, he returned the glance.

For a second time seemed to stop.

But it was only a second; he passed by without a word and continued his work as if they never existed. They shrugged too and continued whispering, but not before making sure he couldn’t hear a word.

He didn’t mind, it had no importance anyway.

It was no wonder people sometimes made wrong decisions. Whatever was on their heads, he would take care of it if necessary.


	63. wild

When he came to, he found himself holding a grenade. A bit dazzled, he looked around the room – and froze.

Blood sprayed on the walls. Bodies entwined in some form of a complicated dance.

The last opponent crushed under the ceiling that fell after the explosion.

His eyes squinted as if hurt because of all the red that assaulted his vision. The grenade still had its pin on, but it looked like he was ready to erase the building from existence. It was him who went on the rampage here anyway.

He sighed and shoved the grenade into his pocket.


	64. inviting death

Sometimes he felt like she glanced over his shoulder, watching his every move. She was always one step after him, ready to embrace him, but whenever he turned around, she disappeared.

The nightly sister; death.

She mocked him, pushed him to long for her. Taunted him. He sought her in the ones he killed, convinced that if he understood death, he’d also be able to know the meaning of life.

But it never seemed to be the case. She left him hanging until he’d kill again, unable to comprehend the sense of life he kept seeing in the victims’ eyes.


	65. truth

The world of guns seemed depressing when you first arrived, but you could get used to it quickly. Vick actually didn’t have much trouble with that, nor did he remember how it felt. It sort of came naturally. Maybe some were born to darkness as a matter of fact, without even knowing it.

He wasn’t the only one, but there were also people who never accepted their existence there. He couldn’t even imagine the fire that must have burned them.

The truth was that nobody really cared, they just carried on in this fucking twisted world – and everything was alright.


	66. power games

His gun gleamed in the moonlight as he brushed it with a cloth. Some of the bullets lay nearby on the table.

He sat by the window, occasionally glancing outside. The city seemed lively yet calm, as if not knowing about the great force that held it in its grasp. He was that force, and he was taking his time to get his instrument ready.

Having finished, he raised the gun over his head and looked up at it. The cold glow caressed his eyes like knives before inflicting a fatal wound.

Sometimes he’d savour the feeling of being pierced.


	67. uncertainty

His job required flawless reflex and cold blood. The fate of everyone in the organisation depended on his decisions, on whether he pulled the trigger or not. His reputation arose because he never mistook which was right.

There was no place for hesitating. His superiors expected he’d never ask questions and do what ordered. For all they knew he could only have the trigger-pulling muscle, no heart. Vick was what he was because he acted like a machine – always ready, never lost.

This role actually felt pretty comfortable.

He’d leaved doubts to the high-ups. Feeling troubled served them just right.


	68. impatience

The warehouse was silent, like half an hour before. He threw a glance at his watch, followed by a groan. Why do people never get on time?

He was supposed to receive an important cargo from the associates and make sure it’s delivered safely to the headquarters. The cargo included the newest types of guns, ammo, materials for bombs as well. It was enough to blow up half of the world.

His ankles went sore; he got up from his spot and looked around. Around the corner he saw a truck approaching with great speed.

What recklessness, he thought bitterly.


	69. eternity

He couldn’t remember where it all began.

His routines, his current everyday life – obviously, no problem with that. But there must have been something before, and he just had a black hole in his mind.

Truth be told, he didn’t try hard enough to recall, a bit worried about what he might see if he does. And it’s not like it mattered anyway. In IRIS, there was only here and now, the present.

He knew things would be like that forever, so he was okay with forgetting everything else.

It felt like eternity – up until now, and from now on.


	70. the labyrinth of the mind

He was lost.

It was so dark he couldn’t even see the tip of his own nose and whenever he opened his mouth, no sound arose, like his voice was being sucked into nothingness. Even breathing caused pain, as if something tightened around his chest.

He was scared.

Was that a dream? Or a nightmare, more like. But it didn’t feel like dreaming, so…

No, it was no dream. It was reality, but not the reality people usually think of.

It was reality within his mind that nobody could ever enter. His own reality – the worst kind.

He was doomed.


	71. circus

“I’m sick of it. I wish I could just leave.”

“Shut up, you’ll get yourself killed.”

The agents’ carelessness never ceased to amaze him; they were talking quietly while walking the corridor, but Vick – and anyone nearby, for that matter – could hear every single word perfectly. What foolishness.

“What would you do if you were me? I’m done. I’m done, and yet I can’t even be left alone.”

“It was your own decision,” murmured Vick loud enough for them to hear.

The two agents went silent, breaths hitching in their throats.

Vick left. No need to waste time on clowns.


	72. abandoned

The former agent had nowhere to run, but all of them try to escape in the stupidest situations. Vick followed him up to the door – and then, slammed it shut.

“Hey!” there was a muffled, panicked voice from the inside. “Hey, I’m gonna run!”

“No,” whispered Vick, pressing the detonator.

The whole building shook in explosion, doors flying, but Vick was already downstairs, ready to report to Mr. Black.

Sometimes he wondered if he would meet the same fate: the fate of being abandoned by his own organisation.

But he brushed those thoughts away. He wouldn’t end up like that.


	73. rush

He’d been there before.

As always, it was now or never.

Blood pumped in his ears. His heart raced like it had legs on its own. Echoing gunshots and yelling voices were deafening, but he hardly even acknowledged them.

Breath short and shallow, he rushed for his life.

At that time, Vick was never aware of the world around him. All of his body and his mind focused on the simple, or maybe not so simple task: to survive.

He was in a trance, eyes wide, eyes mad.

But he’d been there before.

He always managed to complete his task.


	74. peace

Sometimes he managed to get away for a little while.

Choosing one from many identities he had faked, going to its respective apartment, he’d sneak away from his duties, though never quite free from them – always on guard, always on duty.

Yet, such moments when his gun was left on the table and the clock ticked, were the moments when he could have a little relief from his constant uneasiness. Such moments gave him a taste of so-called ‘normal life’; the one he could only dream of, and actually never truly desire for.

And it was alright, all he needed.


	75. stratosphere

He’s falling.

As wind softly brushes his face, he’s flying down the dark, bottomless pit. His half-lidded eyes see no light, but he knows for sure: it‘s hidden down there, and he will reach it before long.

Inhaling deeply, he allows cold air to fill his lungs with a pleasant scent of imaginary freedom. The light approaches; he’s both excited and scared to reach it. Is it good or bad? Warm or cold? Is it a form of salvation or condemnation?

But he never reaches it. It disappears right before his outstretched hand.

Then he comes to, confused, dazed, begrudged.


	76. wind

“Nobody heard you, right?”

“Of course, sir. We’re far away from civilisation…”

He paused, stopping in his tracks when something caught his eye. He was on top of the hill, surrounded by forests and broadly defined nature; disconnected from any forms of technology, and humanity in general.

The wind rose, ruffling his hair and pulling the hem of his jacket. All of a sudden, he felt like he was standing in the centre of the universe… like all memories and fragments of the past were condensed into that single, soft gust.

“Are you there?”

“…Yes,” Vick held back a chuckle.


	77. the smell of summer

Letting out a groan, he opened the car windows as wide as possible, but despite his continued effort the insides remained hot. Boiling hot.

How was it possible that even while driving, the air was as still as some fucking statue?

Vick huffed, sweat tickling his forehead. He felt so limp and useless it irritated him, as though the heat sucked all the life out of him. The only good thing was that his enemies probably weren’t any better – maybe some of them would save him the bother and shoot themselves.

Or maybe they’d die thanks to their own stench?


End file.
